The Search For PI
by TeaOli
Summary: After a mission involving strangely vivid dreams and lots of pie, Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura try to get on with their lives and work, sans PI. Humor first and foremost, with a little bit of adventure and romance.
1. SFR 800:314159265358979323846264

**SFR 800:3.14159265358979323846264**

* * *

James T. Kirk didn't just walk into Sickbay for his quarterly physical, he _sauntered_. He was damn-near _strutting_. Leonard McCoy recognized the self-congratulatory grin on his captain's face for what it was, and grimaced.

"Got your girdle on too tight?" greeted the doctor just for the hell of it and because he knew he was probably the only one who could get away with talking to the captain like that.

Jim's smile ticked up a notch or five and his stride took on even more swagger. "Don't hate, Bones," he said, unfazed and unrepentant as he heaved himself onto a biobed. "Just because you're too ornery to take your own advice is no reason to lay into me."

Leonard considered the merits and consequences of various painful but otherwise harmless hyposprays in his dispensary. He decided against using any of them. Jim wouldn't write him up for it, but he'd sure as hell make Len pay for it with months of teasing references to the doctor's "jealousy."

Instead, _Enterprise's_ CMO kept his expression as neutral as possible as he went through the familiar litany of tests. By the time he was halfway through, he no longer even needed to try. And by the end, he'd come across enough pleasant surprises to almost make him smile.

"When'd you stop using Spanx®?" he asked, awed by his friend's newly svelte — well, more-svelte-than-before — physique, in spite of his earlier annoyance. "I _know_ you haven't been hitting the gym more often."

Kirk grinned crookedly, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. Len knew for a fact that a whole lotta women found that smile enticing, Spanx® or no Spanx®, and realized about the same time he registered the look that he didn't want his question answered. He opened him mouth to snap out a "never mind," but damn it, Jim was already talking.

"Janice is a demanding woman, Bones." He smiled harder and his eyes sort of lost focused in a way that made Len's innards heave — he really didn't need to know what Jim was remembering — before adding, "Who needs the gym when you've got a, er, personal trainer who drops by every night?"

Len jumped in before Jim could share much more. And he would. That was just the ol' devil's way.

"Well goody for you, Captain," the doctor snarled. Not that he was bitter or anything. "Too bad I can't say the same for your crew!"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Leonard regretted them. Sure, he was gonna have to talk to Jim about the others, but a more professional approach would have been wiser. He knew it was too late to pretend change the subject when his friend traded the saucy rogue look for his "concerned captain" expression.

"What do you mean, Bones?" Jim sat up, all signs of playful teasing gone. "Is someone ill?"

Len sighed.

"Nobody's sick. Yet."

Kirk folded his arms across his now well-defined chest, silently urging Len to continue.

"It's Spock, Jim," he admitted. "And Uhura," he added in an undertone, even though they were alone in a sound-proofed examination room. "Each of them has been exhibiting signs of abnormal irritability, slightly elevated blood pressure — though in Spock's case that's almost a good thing—insomnia and an increased reaction to tactile stimulus."

"Sounds like PI deprivation, to me," the captain diagnosed.

"That's because it is."

"What?" In his shock, the captain leapt to his feet, arms falling to his sides and hands curling into fists. "How?" He surged forward and grabbed Bones by the upper arms, stopping just short of shaking the fitter man. "I mean, those two? After Mayteca, they should be in even better shape than me! Why in the galaxy aren't they?"

The first emotion to sweep over Len was incredulity. It was rapidly replaced by anger. He violently pulled himself out of the captain's grip.

"Why aren't they?" he snapped. "Because you practically ordered them to keep their hands off each, that's why!"

"What?" Kirk yelped again. "But I never—Oh…" He at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself as he remembered the harsh admonishments he'd unleashed on the two officers. "But I didn't mean they couldn't have _PI_! I just didn't want them to end up with a kid and have to leave the ship."

Grunting, McCoy shook his head and turned to put away some equipment. "Doesn't matter what you _meant_ to do. What matters is what you did. And how it's affecting two pretty damned important members of your crew!"

"So, we'll have to make them have PI," the captain said, shrugging.

"Don't be an idiot! You can't just order them to knock boots, Jim!" McCoy scoffed, too wrapped up in worry about his patients to try to hide his outrage.

Not that he would have even under normal circumstances, Jim mused. Before Jim realized what he was doing, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

The doctor slapped his desk so hard, Kirk actually flinched. Something told him his friend was thinking of the composite desktop as substitute for the captain's own face. The thought only made Jim smile. Bones could probably stand to order himself

"Even if it wasn't against regs for you to go nosin' around other people's beds uninvited, they're your friends," Len continued once Jim was paying attention again.

"Maybe _I_ can't, but _you_ can at least remind them it's your duty to enforce the PI reg."

McCoy stroked his chin, somehow managing to still look grim as his face loosened into something more like thoughtful.

"Well, Vulcans are exempt, of course, but Spock's in a grey area, being half human and all. But I _could_ order Uhura to comply. If I wanted my ass handed to me, that is." He shook his head, then aimed a bleak, defeated look at Kirk. "Naw, Jim. Even if I said something, Uhura'd just use her PI-Surrogate and Spock would go on about how he's not answerable to rules aimed at other humanoids.

"The thing is, PI-Ses are great for relieving the tension, but I don't think it'll work in this case. And worse, Spock doesn't _have_ a PI-S. He never needed one before Mayteca. But after you ordered them not to—"

"I never ordered them not to have PI!" Jim snapped.

"Ever since you let them think you didn't want them engaging in Palliative Intercourse with each other," the doctor went on, "the two of them have been on a downward spiral. I guess it wasn't so bad at first, or else you would have noticed it as soon as you got back. But now the both of them are internalizing it, and I don't think it'll be long before one of them breaks down."

But James Tiberius Kirk wasn't easily thwarted. His eyes did that losing focus thing again, then a second or so later, a sly smile took over his face. When he looked up, Len knew there would be no talking the man out of whatever he had up his sleeve.

"Don't worry, Bones," said Jim, slapping him heartily on the back. "I know just how to handle this."

McCoy groaned to himself. Nope. There was nothing he could do change his captain's mind once it was made up. He made a last-ditch effort, anyway.

"Since when you care about following regulations, Jim?"

Kirk grinned that devilish grin that usually ended up meaning trouble for the whole crew — just before the same grin got them all out of it again.

"Bones," he said, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder, "it's _PI_. Of course I care."

* * *

**A/N:** This story mostly stands on its own, but it is a sequel to _The Pie_ (/s/5846344/1/The_Pie). Other than the references in this and one other chapter, however, there really isn't much overlap and you can probably glean enough from the context to avoid reading _The Pie_.

Disclaimer: If I owned any of the publically recognizable characters or concepts, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfic.


	2. Frustration and NearConfrontation

**Frustration and Near-Confrontation**

* * *

Normally, she'd be in her element. Surrounded by smiling faces and happily chattering voices, watching the often hilarious results of the crew doing their damnedest to act like they were living normal lives was usually her idea of a good night. Just now, though, it was all irritating the hell out of her. Why in the galaxy the captain had _ordered_ her to show up for leisure time in Rec Room Seven was—

Uhura broke off her annoyed reverie, ready to offer a smile and tell Riley, with feigned disappointment, that she couldn't possibly perform a duet with him just now. Maybe she'd even pretend to cough a little so as not to hurt his feelings too much… But, mid-smile, she suddenly wondered why she was so quick to turn the young man down. It was just a song, after all. And Riley _was_ sweet — terrible voice — but he almost always meant well.

"Absolutely, Kevin," she purred, going with the whim to keep her traitorous thoughts from taking places she didn't want go. "What do you think we should sing?"

"Sure, and aren't I blessed to be the one doin' the choosin'?" he asked with an elaborate — and somehow jaunty — bow.

Uhura watched the young man's eyes lose focus as he evidently searched the coffers of his brain for some they could both do justice.

_Please! Anything but "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen!"_ she thought. Holding the grin in place made her cheeks ache. The other members of their little group didn't break off their own conversations, but she noticed hers wasn't the only borderline grimace in place.

Still, thinking about the over-the-top attempt at the lilting brogue and his pleased expression made her own smile grow genuine. The boy might seem oblivious to the reactions of those around him most of the time, but he had cause to know more about grief and pain than just about any other crewmember she could think of. Even more than the captain. If Riley could still smile at the silly things… well, then a — _broken heart_ wasn't exactly the right way to put it — a little _disappointment_ wasn't going to keep her from smiling at them, too.

She hummed the opening lines of the song she'd just been begging him not to choose, giving him an encouraging look.

Then Kevin's eyes brightened, sharpened. And he lost his smile.

"Eh," he mumbled, his face flushing, "maybe not that one Miss Uhura." She noticed his eyes were firmly fixed on a point beyond her shoulder. "And perhaps another night?"

Before she could turn to see what — or, more likely, _who_ — had captured his attention, Kevin Riley bowed again and hurried off, leaving her at once surrounded and alone.

.

.

Not matter how determinedly enthusiastic Kirk was, maneuvering two seasoned (and dedicated to their duties) officers into position to play hide the photon-torpedo while trying to pretend you weren't manipulating them wasn't the easiest task in the galaxy. Not that Bones had expected the harebrained scheme to play out any other way, but three weeks into Operation Peace of PI (one guess who'd come up with that moronic name) Jim's frustration with failure was wearing on his last nerve.

But even worse than Jim's nightly pacing in Leonard's quarters (and Rand's resultant tetchiness) was watching Spock and Uhura paying for their captain's stupidity. Add a double shot of stubbornness from the Vulcan and his lady, and the doctor was stuck dealing with four pissed off people instead of just the two.

If he thought they had a comet's chance in a supernova of working, Bones would have the first to get behind his friend's plans. Too bad he knew Jim's way of thinking too well to fool himself. The man had no conception of subtly.

Shaking his head, he glanced around Rec Room Seven expecting to see the captain's latest failure playing itself out: Spock sitting across from whatever hapless victim he'd been able to snare into a game of tri-level chess; Uhura faking cheerfulness amid a group of admirers and friends Bones knew for a fact she barely noticed.

What he saw instead was far worse than the usual. Another quick glance told that Jim had noticed, too, but looked to be on the receiving end of what was no doubt (in spite of her cheery grin) a rant from his randy yeoman.

For a moment, he considered letting the fool Vulcan go ahead and dig himself deeper, but when he noticed the cause of this insane mess noticing what was happening, Leonard knew he had to act.

But before the captain could extricate himself from whatever orders Rand was covertly conveying, the doctor (with a stifled groan and a mental _Damn it, Jim!_) stalked across the room, knowing that he was about to get stuck playing the hero again and hating it.

.

.

"Are you even listening to me?" Janice hissed, careful not to raise her voice. She squinted in the direction Jim's gaze kept going. It didn't take long to see what had captured his attention. Riley quailing was old hat, but she'd never seen a Vulcan actually glare before.

A bewildered Uhura was pretty rare, come to think about it.

"That's all your fault," Rand pronounced, her own grievances temporarily forgotten in favor of her friend's difficulties.

"I—" he said.

Pitching her voice even lower, she cut him off with, "Do you know she actually _cried_ the other night? Ny. Does. Not. Cry. Not over a guy, anyway. Sure, she acted like it was just anger and frustration, but I know her better than that. She doesn't cry over work, either."

Forgetting she was supposed to appear friendly and charming, the petit blonde yeoman folded her arms across her chest and scowled. The upside of Jim's recent distraction was that she'd been available when Nyota had come chiming at her door late at night. The downside to Jim's distraction was that it was caused by the same thing that had Nyota chiming at her door late at night.

She looked at her lover again, wondering whether he was even worth it. Those hazel eyes, switching back between the comm chief and the XO certainly _looked_ full of concern and remorse. And (her eyes slid down his now-trim torso) he _was_ awfully eager to comply with her specialized exercise regimen. Surely a man as enthusiastic about PI as her captain couldn't possibly really mean to deny his crew the same… benefit?

Oh hell! Jim was worth it and then some!

Not that Janice intended to let him know that.

Yet.

"You'd better fix this!" she ordered.

Thinking better of it, she decided to handle business herself — the girl talk side of it, at least — but was nearly run off her feet by a surly-looking doctor stalking by on a trajectory that might have cut Ny off before she reached Mister Spock — if he'd had any clue about the speed and agility of an angry woman, that is.

_Men! Do they _all_ think it's their place to interfere?_

Any ideas about the captain "fixing this" were completely forgotten. With impatient glare at Jim, tossed over her shoulder as she started forward again, Janice Rand started formulating a plan for damage control.

.

.

Aware of the scrutiny of the crewmembers who pretended to carrying on their conversations while casting clandestine glances between him and the approaching communications officer, Spock attempted to smooth his face into what he convinced himself was cool detachment. Because he doing so was integral to living according to Surak's teachings, he was confident of his success; since he had so little experience composing himself under these particular circumstances, he had no idea just how spectacularly he'd failed.

Nyot— Miss Uhura radiated displeasure as she stalked towards him. What would have been a shockingly distasteful display in a Vulcan woman was manifest as a glorious vitality in her humanity. Spock suppressed a wave of illogical satisfaction at the sight.

He noted Leonard McCoy's sudden movement from his right. Clearly, the doctor thought to reach Miss Uhura before she reached her destination. Equally, clearly, however, the man had miscalculated his flanking maneuver, having failed to properly judge her velocity or to take into account the way their colleagues moved out of _her_ path, but not his.

He saw Yeoman Rand leave Jim's side and hurry in Miss Uhura's wake, but determined that the other woman's short stature, combined with the impractically high heels of her regulation boots, would prevent her from achieving an adequate intervention. A more careful perusal, however, suggested that Miss Uhura wasn't Miss Rand's target, after all. The yeoman's narrowed eyes were trained firmly on the good doctor.

_Good_, he thought before he could think better of the thought.

He was, in fact, so wrapped up in thoughts of the woman who would stand before him in approximately five point seven seconds, he failed to hear the two sets of footsteps approaching him from behind.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, eliciting a patently unVulcanlike start of surprise.

"Just the man we were lookin' for!" boomed Engineer Scott.

Spock turned his head to his right, forgetting not to glare at the man. He turned to the right when another voice sounded to his left.

"Oh, yes, Meester Scott!" agreed Ensign Chekov. "Vith the help of Meester Spock, ve vill solve this problem in no time!"

.

.

Less than a meter away from her goal, Uhura stopped stalking. She was fairly certain Scotty and Pavel were up to something. Again. And wanted no part of it.

Spinning on her heel, she was just in time to see Jan wrap her hands around Leonard's elbow, yanking hard. When she tried to duck around them, she came face to face with a concerned Captain Kirk.

That's when she noticed everyone else in the room was staring.

* * *

**A/N:** This story mostly stands on its own, but it is a sequel to _The Pie_ (/s/5846344/1/The_Pie). However, there really isn't much overlap and you can probably glean enough from the context to avoid reading _The Pie_.

Disclaimer: If I owned any of the publically recognizable characters or concepts, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfic.


End file.
